


in tongues and quiet sighs

by stubborn_jerk



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Confessions, Conflict Resolution, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together, Intimacy, Jealous Peter Nureyev, Late Night Conversations, Nail Polish, Other, POV Alternating, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Tenderness, Trans Peter Nureyev, haircare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubborn_jerk/pseuds/stubborn_jerk
Summary: They had agreed on taking things slow. To talk things through. And Nureyev had willingly obliged. If this Juno Steel took what he could get, and waited patiently for Nureyev, then who was he to rush them?This new Juno Steel with the soft edges contrasting his sharp jaw, wanted differently. Until today’s job, Nureyev hadn’t thought he’d end up fearing this development.(Based on the weeks between chapters 2 and 3 ofbridges to burn and places to run)
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 32
Kudos: 177





	in tongues and quiet sighs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Northisnotup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northisnotup/gifts).



> title from Florence + The Machine's [All This and Heaven Too](https://youtu.be/3yIuePXvgus) which, in my opinion, is legit just Peter Nureyev song.
> 
> this can absolutely stand alone, if you just want to read the context clues. but please read bridges to burn too, i worked really hard to do the art and fic for it. i would appreciate it.
> 
> this fic is for my friend [North](https://archiveofourown.org/users/northisnotup) who, after reading a throwaway line I gave in chapter 3 of bridges to burn, wanted me to hash out exactly what i meant about it because, and I quote, "the people need to know." bud, you are absolutely right. happy horny on main monday!
> 
> NOTE: if you want to skip the sex, the scenes are bracketed by a big bold X. so just, skim past, i guess. there's going to be _some_ talk of sex afterwards (bc they're gross and a lot of the resolution comes with the sex. i know, these old farts? sexual beings? yeesh) but it's hopefully nothing too explicit for you.

They had a knock. 

A harmless rap, three times, a rest between each. Juno was raised on signs and omens like that. Three repeated actions, three trials, three meetings. 

Nureyev saw behind what it meant, the first time Juno rapped it on the table between them the morning after his apology. 

He watched for Nureyev's reaction with breath held, waiting for rejection. 

It was the longest he'd been able to look at Nureyev since he left Hyperion with his best friend, honestly. He only allowed himself brief glances, just to see if he was really there. 

But his apology had lifted most of the guilt, by then. He could properly drink Nureyev in. 

(He'd always been good for that, if not much else.)

He regarded the bags under Nureyev's eyes, hidden skillfully through makeup but clear with how close they were sitting. His gaze dropped to that endearing ripple of a frown line by the ridge of Nureyev's right cheek. The frankly adorable lump by the edge of Nureyev’s lip caught his attention quickly after. 

(Might have been a scar once that had been agitated over time, he thought. He imagined Nureyev, younger and with longer hair, biting at his lip until he worried it to bleeding.)

Juno had always seen those kinds of flaws on himself as… well, _flaws_. These days it was hard for him to look into a mirror. His face was a marred, scarred mess of years of beating back the edge of death by running towards it. There was a measure of guilt, now that he had his will to live.

But on Nureyev, these little quirks were what made him the man Juno knew. The Nameless Thief was so desperate to scrub himself from every existence he deemed necessary, but he couldn’t erase these. These were the quirks Juno remembered in his dreams, apart from that memorable cologne, those soft fingers, and those silken lips. Those quirks were what made Peter Nureyev, the parts of him that lived on despite his best efforts.

In that brief moment, Juno had wondered if Nureyev thought the same of the scars on his face. It seemed impossible to him that this one-eyed— that this chipped and damaged _person_ was the one Peter Nureyev had been a fool to fall for.

Juno rapped at the synth-wood again. 

One, two, three. 

_I love you._

Then, Nureyev smiled. 

* * *

Rita rushed to him once they got off the shuttle from Janus, securing him into a tight hug. “Welcome back, Mistah Steel!”

That was how she chose to greet him now, like every time he came back was a blessing. 

He smiled, patting her head before hugging back. “Hey, Rita.”

“That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way.”

Juno blinked.

He copped around the side of his head and plucked it off from behind his right ear. He held it gently between two fingers.

It had been pretty. A lot of things in Gawain’s garden were. He hadn't been sure which ones were nonlethal, but if Gawain put it around somewhere guests could get to it, it must not have been. 

He _had_ meant to take the flower to start a conversation, because Gawain had been too busy staring at him the whole time. He had to prove to Buddy that he _could_ socialize with genteel rich pricks like Richard Gawain, thanks very much.

But he’d forgotten about it. On the ride back, he was faced with the cold bucket of water that was Peter Nureyev giving him the silent treatment.

“So, what happened? Mistah Jet told me not to spy on you guys and Miss Vespa didn't like not knowing—”

Juno glanced around the front yard to look for him. 

Nureyev slipped off into the house without a word, despite Jet's best efforts for amiable conversation. Buddy made a beeline for her wife and was showing her pictures on her comms.

“—so, I thought, _Well, Mistah Jet would probably know better even_ **_if_ ** _you were together for a really long time._ Because Mistah Jet was with Captain A while she was—”

“Rita.”

“Yeah, Boss?”

What? _Boss?_

He blinked at her. “What happened to—”

“Oh, so you're _used'ta_ Mistah Steel now, I gotcha,” she started, sounding like she was going to start scolding him for something. “Because y'know we ain't ever got time to hang out anymore with all the lead huntin' and lookin' through credit accounts 'n' emails, 'n' I don't hold it against you, we're all sorta busy. But these days all you _ever_ need me for is research and you don’t ever listen to me when I’m talkin’, always staring after Mistah—”

Juno sighed.

There it was.

“ _Yeah, alright_ , Rita. I'm sorry. I’ll hang out with you tomorrow after take off. _Yeesh_ , all you had to do was ask.”

Rita cheered. “Ooh! You won't _regret it_ , Mistah Steel.”

Smiling, he gave her a quick squeeze before leading her back to the manor.

* * *

They debriefed. They dined. Then, they spread out into the manor. They would be packing up the Carte Blanche in the cover of the night, and Rita would be erasing any trace of them by midnight.

Nureyev retreated to his quarters.

There wasn’t much to unpack in there. Most nights, he climbed in and out of the Carte Blanche to change, just to avoid the hassle of having to clean up his messes. Most of the nights they’ve stayed on Epimetheus, he and Juno had their talks in his room on the ship too. Sometimes, they fell asleep there.

Nureyev didn’t trust Virdi Manor, and after today, Richard Gawain.

He paced the length of his guest room.

The _nerve_ of that man, honestly.

See, Nureyev was perfectly capable of acknowledging that he wasn’t the only one who could see something in Juno Steel.

It was one of the things he’d filed away until that night at Zolotovna’s ball. He had been so rudely confronted by Miss Zolotovna’s affections for the lady that it just spilled out of the file cabinet of his brain before he thought better of it.

He was also perfectly capable of objectivity, in the height of most situations. 

Their mission today called for Juno to embody a character that Richard Gawain would be distracted by. And, as Buddy had put such a fine point to it at dinner tonight, Juno had done a stellar job as Hera Reyes.

Nureyev didn’t hear much else from the debrief. Going by the files Rita had passed along to his reading pad, it was more of the lead hunting they needed to do anyway. He just ate and pushed his food around until it was a reasonable enough time to leave. 

That _flower_ was in a vase in the middle of the table. Every time he blinked, he could see the image of Richard Gawain bending down to tuck it behind Juno's ear. It filled him in such a familiar rage, he could hardly breathe.

Just because he was capable of a few things didn’t mean he actually applied those capabilities to himself.

With an aggravated sigh, Nureyev dove into the too-soft bed and buried his face into one of the pillows. He let out a groan of frustration and sifted through the things he’d filed away today.

It was part of his nightly talks with Juno, to just sort through their emotions. Nureyev hadn’t liked it, which might have been the point. 

He didn’t feel like talking about it tonight.

_Someone who asserts their choice in love, if they’re certain that it’s you._

Peter Nureyev wasn’t a nostalgic man. He’d been taught to keep his head in the present, to save some future for later. 

But he couldn’t help but cast his mind to the past, to desert car chases and deadly card games, to hiding inside closets from genetically-modified creatures and stealing a whiskey-flavored kiss.

To Dahlia and Duke Rose. To Rex Glass and Juno Steel.

Had he not been assertive enough? How had Gawain worded it… _Serious and bold_? Had he not asked Juno Steel to run away with him after their first kiss? Had he not swept the lady off his feet within their first two meetings?

Had he not come back for him, to that cursed Martian ruin they'd been tortured in? When trouble arose, Peter Nureyev disappeared, but there he was, Juno's knight in stolen armor.

 _Had he not come back for that impossible lady?_ Was that not assertive enough? Not serious and bold enough?

Three knocks cut through his bitter reverie, a rest between each.

When Juno had given him that signal, it felt like a gift. Like his name, like their shared history, and like weeks inside a Martian ruin buried a mile underground. That knock was just another one of the things they had _just for them_.

They shared smiles that morning. The sharp cast of Juno’s eye softened into something that wouldn’t hurt him if he touched it, the retraction of a cat’s claws. His fingers had itched to trace the line of that jaw, to pull him closer. The way that smiled _bloomed_.

But they had agreed on taking things slow. To talk things through. And Nureyev had willingly obliged. If this Juno Steel took what he could get, and waited patiently for Nureyev, then who was he to rush them?

This new Juno Steel with the soft edges contrasting his sharp jaw, wanted differently. Until today’s job, Nureyev hadn’t thought he’d end up fearing this development.

“Come in,” Nureyev muttered.

When nothing came, he raised his head from the pillow. “Come in, Juno.”

The door hissed open.

“Hey, are we not gonna…”

Nureyev heaved a sigh. “I’m not really in the mood to talk tonight. If you don’t mind.”

He shifted around to lay on his back, looking across the room.

Juno had changed out to one of those… loose tie-dye shirts he wore during downtime, part of it tucked into sleep shorts. He looked like he’d showered already, but there was still a little blonde left in his damp curls.

He was good at not looking disappointed. Nureyev couldn’t say he’d extended the same courtesy to Juno, some previous nights. “Not at all. Do you wanna just hang out?”

“What about Miss Rita?”

Juno approached the bed, sitting by the headrest. He tucked one of his feet up, revealing cat-print foot socks. “She wrangled the rest into one of her streams tonight. I told her I was catching you up since you haven’t started it yet.”

A laugh tumbled out of him. He hadn’t even known it would.

(That was always how it was, being around Juno Steel. Things just tumbled out without it meaning to. A sensible man with as many secrets as Peter Nureyev shouldn’t even be talking to him.

Nureyev never knew himself to be sensible.)

He held a hand out between them, turning on his side to face Juno. Juno took it without hesitation. 

“Are we really going to? I might like it. I don’t think I’ve ever been roped into a stream-watching scheme before.”

Juno snorted. “Trust me. You’re the lucky one. You really don’t wanna watch _Werewolves in Orbit_. Really.”

Nureyev pulled a face. “Watch _what_?”

“Exactly.”

That dropped them into an amiable silence, each of them smiling off to a distant section of the wall opposite the bed.

“Hey, I know you said you weren’t in the mood for talking tonight but…” 

Juno tended to stammer when he was unsure of what crossing Nureyev’s boundaries looked like. There hasn’t been an incident of him doing so, so far. Nureyev, on the other hand, crossed multiple within their first meeting, so he felt like Juno was due at least one at some point.

“You want to know why?” Nureyev asked. 

“Y-you don’t have to tell me. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything… I dunno, I did today?”

Nureyev was careful to keep his voice steady. “What?”

Juno flushed, fiddling with his thumbs as he looked at the floral print on the blankets before him. “You were really quiet on the ride back. I don’t know, maybe you heard– but– uh… No.” Juno settled finally. “No. Just, you said you didn’t want to talk, I’ll respect that.”

Nureyev pushed himself up to sitting. Juno jolted.

“What did you think happened today?”

Juno’s brow furrowed. He rubbed at his right cheek, mumbling, “We went on a job, I had to distract the mark while Buddy went off elsewhere to do whatever. You got what we needed and you didn’t talk to me on the way back. Listen– I know it’s probably nothing, maybe I’m just overthinking it and I’m tired, y’know? Just drop it. You said you didn’t want to talk, I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Juno took a deep breath, avoiding his eyes. Nureyev saw the fight drain out of Juno’s shoulders just as quickly as it had gotten there, like the rise and fall of waves across the water.

“Alright.”

* * *

Rita, Vespa, and Jet are out on an intel gathering stint. Buddy was up on the deck, ready for touchdown just in case things got hairy. Nureyev commandeered the communications station in Rita’s stead, watching feeds and warnings if need be.

Juno sat in the corner, throwing and catching one of Vespa’s stress balls in the air. Well, it was more throwing and fumbling to catch, really. He was trying something with this… depth perception stuff. 

He’d try mending one of his skirts again to pass the time, really, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to ask Nureyev to shoot the thread into the needle for him yet. It seemed a little too vulnerable for his tastes. He didn’t want to come across as needy. 

Which probably meant that he should do it.

He heaved a sigh and stood to retrieve his sewing kit and the skirt.

When he got back, Nureyev was just turning off the comms on their end. He glanced up as Juno sat back into his seat.

Juno tried to keep to himself, keeping an ear open in case his knowledge was needed or just in case he got called in for backup.

He lined up the part that needed new stitches and dug through his little tin before retrieving the spool of thread and a needle barely even bigger than a knuckle on his thumb. He’d left his threader in the apartment.

Maybe he should buy a new one. Maybe Vespa had a spare one. Maybe he could take it from her before she noticed.

Maybe's wouldn’t get his skirt stitched back up though. He stuck the thread end into his mouth as he glared down at the needle, then made an attempt at shoving it into the hole.

...With varying results.

The attempt that really made him snap was when he finally got it in, but had been so happy, he pulled it back out.

He groaned.

Nureyev looked up. “What is it, dear?”

“Dumb thread, dumber needle.”

Nureyev didn’t have anything to say to that.

With a rough sigh, Juno looked over at him. “Could you help me with this?” He rankled at his own helpless tone. 

“Pardon?”

“I must’a left my threader back at Hyperion because it’s not in my room, but I really need to stitch this thing back up and I can’t get the thread through because,” he gestured to his eye.

Nureyev blinked at him, then rolled his chair over to take the needle and the thread from Juno’s beckoning hands.

“How many years have you been doing this?”

Ah, so he’d seen the beat up tin at Juno’s feet.

“Since… I dunno, _ever_? Didn’t really have much in the way of clothes creds so I had to repair our clothes when Ma couldn’t be bothered,” Juno muttered.

He glanced at the security footage, careful not to watch Nureyev.

Jet was doing a convincing job of pretending to be in pain while Vespa “patched him up.” Which was to say that he was probably barely acting because Vespa probably stabbed him somewhere nonlethal just to make it look convincing.

Rita was nowhere to be found, which was good. It meant Nureyev didn't have to scrub any footage.

Nureyev made a noise of triumph. Juno looked to see him pulling the thread through to the length of his arm. “Will this be enough?”

Juno smiled, taking it from him. “Yeah. Thanks, Ransom.”

“Happy to help.”

Juno was almost halfway up the skirt when he heard Nureyev press the comms mic and say, “Miss Vespa, our target is behind you. Act natural.”

A pause.

“Jet, you don’t have to do it too. You’re supposed to be injured… Y-yes, Miss Rita. I’m aware,” Nureyev turned in his seat with a put-upon sigh. “Miss Rita says hi and that she wants curry for dinner.”

Juno snorted, “It’s a Friday. I’m on dish duty.”

Nureyev relayed the response to the mic. Then, “Good job, team.”

He punched the button to the deck. “They’re done, Captain. Rendezvous in fifteen.”

Overhead comms hissed on. “ _Thank you, Pete. I’ll take charge from here. Patch me through_.”

Nureyev patched her through, then took the earpieces off, turning in his chair. “Well, that’s that.”

Juno hummed in assent. 

He was in the middle of another run of stitches when the overhead speakers abruptly scratched to life again.

He jolted and, consequently, pricked his finger.

He hissed, glaring up at the speaker by the comms station.

 _“Juno, darling. You’re in charge of dinner tonight. Pete’s on dish duty. Didn’t I put up the notice last week about chore rotations with our new jobs coming up, or were you too busy doing_ **_something else_ ** _during the meeting?_ ”

Rita’s screeching came through statick-y with distance. “ _I told’ja_ _so, Mistah Steel! Make sure to make two pots and have Mistah Ransom taste the other one because I want it extra spicy but Mistah Jet says he doesn’t-_ ”

They cut off.

Juno huffed, pushing his skirt onto his seat and standing. His finger was most definitely bleeding by now but he refused to look at it.

“Goodness! Let me see that,” Nureyev said with concern. With gentle fingers he grabbed Juno's wrist.

With some trepidation and horror, Juno watched as Nureyev pulled his hand up to examine the bleeding.

Juno winced, turning his head away. He knew it wasn’t much and he didn’t want to be so pathetic about it, but he’d rather avoid the sight of blood on a normal day. 

He started to pull away, but was met with resistance. “ _C’mon_ , Ransom. I’ve gotta cook–”

Warm. Wet. Ridges on his first knuckle. Soft lips on his second.

Juno looked.

Nureyev had put the bleeding finger into his mouth and was… now sucking. 

Juno blinked. 

He didn’t even have the time to process it because Nureyev was now looking at Juno through those thick lashes he watched curled on this morning.

Juno had to speak.

He _had_ to say something, right?

What was _anyone_ supposed to say when their ex-ex-now-trying-something-new was suckling a bleeding finger and staring at them like they wanted to eat the other up?

“N-Nu-uh, _Rrransom_?”

Nureyev let him go with one last lick at the pad of his finger. “There, no need for a band-aid.”

They stood there for a moment while Juno tried and failed to gather his wits about him for three tries before squeaking out a, “That’s pretty nasty.”

Nureyev laughed. All traces of seduction were wiped from his face and form, showing only delight, and it made Juno smile. “Oh, Juno dear. Come, I’ll finish mending your skirt for you.”

They walked side-by-side to the kitchen, with Nureyev to his left to stay in his line of sight.

He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten used to it and why he never noticed. 

Somehow Nureyev almost always approached his left since he boarded the Carte Blanche. 

Even Rita still had her moments of popping up below his right arm and nearly getting walloped (around twenty years of working with him refined her dodging skills though, so he never really ever hit her on accident anymore).

While he noted that to talk about later, he eyed the skirt in Nureyev’s hands. He knew Nureyev had nimble fingers but… “Are you _sure_ you can do that?”

Nureyev bumped his side. He sounded a little too offended when he said, “I’m _capable_ of something as simple as sewing up a tear, Juno.”

Juno made sure to look extra doubtful of that. 

Nureyev rolled his eyes when he began wagging his brows.

* * *

They took their own sections in the kitchen/dining area, separated by an island counter. 

It was the homiest place on the ship, with a whiteboard on the wall opposite the door to the other quarters. Beside it was the dining table (deliberate placing, for when Buddy was feeling particularly creative with meetings). A few feet away from it, was a walk-in pantry that doubled as a fridge.

It was alright, but the cupboards were always a little too high up for him.

“Hey, Ransom!” Juno called from the walk-in pantry/fridge.

“Yes?”

He popped out from the kitchen with a shiver, kicking the door closed. “You ever cook a meal for someone before?”

“Can’t say I have.” Nureyev didn’t look up from his work. “You do know I’m an awful cook.”

“Well, for _you_ , you’re an awful cook. I say I’m awful at a lot of things Rita says I’m not. And I’m not bragging when I tell you that, I just don’t believe her most of the time so…”

Nureyev hummed. “Is this something about food being the quickest way to one’s heart?”

Juno snorted. “To someone’s increased heart rate, if you try hard enough. I dunno, I guess I’m just curious. I’m used to being the one who cooks for others, I just… never tried food from someone I knew. Rita usually orders in or makes me cook for her, y’know?”

“No exes?”

“I still cooked.”

He hummed, then looked up at Juno with a look of sympathy that didn’t rankle as much as it should have. “Sounds as if you need some pampering, my lady. No one has ever asserted their love for you like that?”

Where had Juno heard that before?

He shrugged when he couldn't place it. “I don’t mind cooking. It’s… relaxing, so don’t get too hung up about it. Plus, I don’t think Buddy or Vespa will let you try to cook anything in this kitchen.”

They slip back to relative silence after that. With Nureyev carefully mending his skirt while Juno chopped up vegetables and meat and went up on his tip-toes to look for the right spices.

Well, as silent as they could be. Juno couldn’t resist humming to himself, some tune he caught from one of Rita’s streams.

He paused in his humming, bending low to check if the other pot was under the sink.

“Why’d you stop?”

Juno looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“Humming.”

“Oh. I can’t find the other pot to pour in the spicy batch.” He stood, squinting up at the cupboards. “Could you check up-top?”

Nureyev didn’t protest.

While he was preoccupied, Juno checked his work on the skirt from where it was left on the counter.

It wasn’t… half bad.

Actually, it looked like it was done by a machine halfway through. Juno knew what his stitch job looked like and Nureyev’s were a bit too neat.

“How am I doing, ma’am?”

Juno snorted, turning to snatch the pot from him. “It’s alright. Back to your seat, Mister Ransom.”

“Well, of course. Will I be getting extra credit?”

“Nope. Not even if you mooch up to me.”

That was what Rita and Jet stumbled into the kitchen to see: Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev being domestic as hell.

Rita ran straight for a hug. Luckily, Juno hadn’t been holding anything when she did.

“Quick, taste this,” he said, before grabbing a spoon to dip into the spicy batch and feed Rita.

She hummed, before sending him a thumbs up and stepping away.

“Hold on, big guy, you too.” He rinsed the spoon as Jet hovered. He took one from the mild batch and gave Jet the spoon. There was no hoping, reaching up there.

Jet grunted his affirmative, handing the spoon back.

When he turned to turn off the stove, he spotted Nureyev giving him one of those looks again. Like he hung the stars or something.

To stave off his embarrassment, Juno held the spoon out for him, offering.

Cheekily, Nureyev opened his mouth.

Out of spite and for the sake of his lingering reputation around Jet and Rita, Juno dipped it into the spicy batch and shoved it into Nureyev’s mouth.

He turned off the stove. “Set the table, you two.”

* * *

They had a job together tomorrow.

Major issues had to be talked about before jobs. Or at least that’s what Nureyev convinced himself into doing. They might regress if he did otherwise, and with Juno already being so patient with him…

It didn’t feel right to keep filing away the events in Janus with Richard Gawain.

He _had_ to say something at some point, right?

Nureyev groaned into one of his pillows, then threw it back against the wall. 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nureyev ran a hand through his hair. “Come in.”

The door hissed open and shut.

“Oh, your feet.” Nureyev looked him up and down, making space on the bed. “Juno, why aren’t you wearing any socks? The floors are freezing!”

Juno blinked his eye, softly, crinkled at the side with a smile as he crawled onto Nureyev’s bed.

Nureyev caught a brief glimpse of Juno’s chest. He tried to push it from his mind as Juno finally plopped down to sit beside him. “I brought these.”

 _These_ being bottles of nail polish. A dark red, deep purple, a gold color he’d seen on Rita once, and plain black. 

“Are we… cancelling tonight? We have a big day ahead of us.”

Juno scrunched his face up and Nureyev had to beat back the urge to jump him then and there. He opened and closed his mouth but seemed to struggle with what he was about to say.

He sighed.

Nureyev had to redouble his efforts when Juno flushed and averted his eye, biting at his lower lip in thought.

“W-well, uh, I always find it easier not to look at someone when I’m saying something… personal? So, I thought we might as well do our nails,” he wiggled his toes, “just so we don’t have to… stare out your window all night? And I didn’t bring a lot. Figured you had your own stuff and I didn’t really ask ahead if you wanted anything else.”

Oh.

This lady.

Nureyev took a deep breath.

“Juno, you…”

Juno waved a hand at him, embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m one of a kind.”

“The _kindest_.”

Juno made a squirming type of sound. “Whatever. Whoever talks first has to do the other’s nails. So, do you want to go first or second, because I’m thinking gold on the left and purple on the right.”

Nureyev, bemused, smiled at him as he crawled out of his corner on the bed to get the ridge filler from his dresser. “Well, I think since you already made up your mind, it seems only fair.” 

He smirked at him from over his shoulder as he showed it to him. “Though, if you wanted me to do your nails, Juno, you needed only to ask.”

Fond and exasperated, Juno said, “ _Nureyev_.”

“Yes, yes, here we are.”

Juno was right, of course. It was easier to speak when they weren’t solely focused on each other. It was easier to focus on a task instead of reacting and causing misunderstandings and fumbling apologies and rectifications. 

“Juno… have I ever been unclear about my intentions for you?”

A silence followed the question, one so unbearable it almost made his hands shake as he applied the base coat on each toenail.

Juno had some odd-shaped toenails, like he’d dropped a bunch of things on his foot before and some of them didn’t grow back normally. But, his cuticles were clean, even if the balls of his feet were rough with lack of care.

“Do you mean before or after…”

“Either,” he croaked out. He cleared his throat. “Either time.”

They rarely ever talked about Before.

Before laid Martian growths and weeks being tortured underground by some mad xenoanthropologist.

Before laid unforgettable kisses and promises to whisk him away to some faraway planet.

Before was over. 

Juno had already apologized and explained himself, and he’d acknowledged that Nureyev had been giving him so many chances to respond, and he had.

Then, he left.

Before was over.

“You were really obvious… Before, I mean. Well, in hindsight,” Juno said. “At the time, I had no idea you were doing it. Why?”

Nureyev capped the filler, moved the finished foot off his lap.

“And after?”

Juno sighed, “You know how you behaved after. And you’re allowed to have behaved like that.”

“Answer the question please.”

Juno took a deep breath. “You were… a bit cold, when we started our first job. And we barely even talked, even professionally, I guess, up until I had to pull you away from that camera. And that was, what, a few days after Rita and I got here?”

Nureyev nodded.

“Yeah. And after we first talked, you haven’t been turning me away at every turn. You let me knock on your door every night, we talk about ourselves, we’re… mostly just trying to figure out how we fit together after everything that’s happened to us since we last met.”

Nureyev froze at that.

“Nureyev?”

“Haven’t I been…?” Affectionate? Open? At the least bit, comforting?

“Been what?”

Nureyev was about to answer when Juno finally caught his meaning. “Oh! Oh, um… well, I guess? We banter, we tease, but we don’t do much apart from that. And I don’t hold it against you. W-we got time to figure us out.”

Did they?

For a moment, the shadow of his debts leered from around a corner of his mind.

 _Did_ they have the time before Nureyev had to figure out how to get out of that? Did Nureyev have the time to step out from Before and into the light with this new Juno Steel and his different wants?

Time had never been on Nureyev’s side. It wasn’t going to start when at any moment, Juno could choose to leave. With or without someone else.

Juno Steel needed someone bold and serious. Someone willing to assert their love for him.

A hand entered his field of vision, capping the filler for him. “Nureyev, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Nureyev couldn’t. What would he think of this weak, aging man so scared of the possibilities of-

“Hey. Nureyev. C’mon, talk to me.”

He couldn’t meet Juno’s eye. “Juno, dear, will you ever get tired of waiting for me?”

“Never.”

No hesitation.

Nureyev nodded. Twice, for good measure. Thrice to settle it.

He sighed.

"Okay."

* * *

Selling their loot from Janus at some snobby nightclub in Titan was the job. 

Their rich clients, the little triad that had no idea how to spend their accumulated wealth after two years in a relationship and a marriage, weren’t really Juno’s idea of good customers. (Then again, rich people in healthy relationships rarely had problems that warranted a private investigator.)

He and Jet were on guard duty again, with Nureyev whisking one part of the triad away for the info they needed. At the other side of the bar, Buddy spoke with their paying customers, Vespa sitting sullenly on her lap.

They looked good. Vespa wasn't in her element, but she cleaned up nice and she seemed relatively docile as Buddy's arm candy.

Buddy asked, “ _Am I correct in assuming this is an anniversary gift, darlings?_ ”

Juno could barely hear the other two’s response in his earpiece, but he saw the way they were flustered from where he sat by the bar, nursing his whiskey.

Buddy smiled. “ _There’s no shame, Mister and Missus Lonitzer. I’d get anything for my dearest here_.”

Vespa scoffed.

Juno snorted into his drink.

His earpiece hissed. Jet said, “ _Juno, target's is heading your way_.”

“A round of drinks, good man!” The target called out to the bartender. “One for my friend here, and one for this fine dame in the corner.”

Juno blinked, staring at him like he’d grown another head. He carefully avoided looking at Nureyev from where he towered behind the man. Juno knew what he looked like, the kind of calculated disheveled from dancing that made people think he was having a great time.

Despite his avoidance, Juno could see one strap of his loose tank top drop off a shoulder.

_Focus, Juno._

“No, thank you,” Juno said, waving the target away.

“Nonsense! We are celebrating this special occasion tonight, or my name isn’t Cosmas Lonitzer.”

Cosmas Lonitzer was a jovial, anxious, and dutiful man, married to Belladonna and Calla Lonitzer. His family owned several malls around Titan that multiple companies fought to rent in. Cosmas was the next in line to inherit and was allegedly very loose with the kinds of open secrets mega corporations were used to.

Nureyev’s job was to get that information from him.

Juno looked over Cosmas’ shoulder to raise a brow at Nureyev.

Cosmas whipped around, looking back and forth between him and Nureyev. “Oh, you two should meet. This is Aster. And you are?”

Juno was a bodyguard. He wasn’t supposed to have a name.

“ _Improvise, Juno_ ,” Jet’s tinny voice came out of his earpiece and did he think Juno didn’t know that?

“Dahlia,” Juno croaked. 

Nureyev had enough presence of mind not to wince.

“Nice to meet you, Dahlia!” Cosmas cut in. “See, Aster here was just asking me about my work! He’s not from Titan, you see. Are you?”

“Just visiting,” he said easily. “I have a pen pal from here. We’re meeting up tomorrow.”

“Oh, well it is likely you’ll meet at one of my establishments! You see, I own… Er, well, I am to _inherit_ several properties from the Blooms’ Keep company! Oh, you should visit, dear Dahlia.”

“... Right.”

Seemed like Nureyev shouldn’t have had a hard time making this guy open up.

He tried to catch Nureyev’s eye but was met with an alarmingly blank look aimed at Cosmas.

Had it been a mistake, picking Dahlia again? Was that why–

But he couldn’t think about it further, because Cosmas was opening his mouth again. “It simply is such a delight, even though I have to deal with men like _Norman Scout_.” He made a sound like spitting on the floor.

Juno snorted. “Is that his _actual_ name?”

Cosmas smacked the counter, taking the seat next to him and leaning in too close for comfort. “I _know!_ That was exactly what I asked! But my dearest Bella, my heart, she just said _‘Cos, just because it doesn’t sound like a name doesn’t mean old money rich folks won’t use it_ **_as_** _a name_.’ (Though now that I think about it, I think she was talking about _my_ name.) Nevertheless, if Norman Scout can own a multiplanetary pharmaceutical company with _that_ name, then I, Cosmas Lonitzer, can–”

Hands snaked around Cosmas’ shoulders. Both of them jolted and turned to look.

Belladonna Lonitzer was shockingly beautiful up close, with her long dark hair in a thick braid that reached her waist and a simple gold silk gown. Calla Lonitzer loomed behind her with his milky purple eyes (contacts?) and a three-piece suit that was definitely overdressed even in a posh nightclub like the Edge.

“Happy anniversary,” she whispered at Cosmas as her hands pulled away to show one of the necklaces Nureyev had plucked from Richard Gawain’s collection.

Cosmas was near tears with how touched he was.

Juno smiled and pretended he wasn’t either. (He’d always been a sap. Benten used to tease him about it. Nowadays, it was mostly just Rita.)

Nureyev was nowhere to be found, when he had the presence of mind to look away from the three. Nor Buddy, Jet, and Vespa. 

Did they just leave him there?

He drained his glass and pushed to stand. “I’ll leave you to celebrate, Lonitzer. Have a great night.”

“Yes, of course, Dahlia,” Cosmas sniffled. “You as well.”

Juno caught Calla looking and threw him a bemused look. Calla just shrugged, looking fonder than anything.

“ _We’re waiting in the car, Juno, if you’ll be so kind as to hop in_ ,” Buddy intoned.

Juno swiped his cred chip on the counter and muttered, “On my way. Did you guys catch what he said?”

“ _Every bit. Rita’s already on it. Good work, darling._ ”

As Juno pushed out of the Edge, he took a deep breath and trudged his way to the parking lot. “All in a day’s work, I guess.”

* * *

Nureyev decided to follow Juno to his room after the meeting that night, just to lay down on his lady’s messy bed while Juno showered off the makeup glitter Rita practically lathered onto his head and shoulders earlier that day.

The job was a success, with little to no effort on Nureyev’s end.

Juno had explained and clarified his side during the meeting already. How he hadn’t thought Cosmas would just sidle up to him and blather on about Blooms’ Keep. How he didn’t want to take Nureyev’s job but when it was all done and over with, Nureyev had already left.

And Nureyev couldn’t really blame him for much. He left for pettier reasons than his pride (though it did sting a bit).

He let the sounds of Juno’s shower-singing wash over him as he pushed around the things inside Juno’s sewing kit. And when his lady was finally finished, he was no closer to knowing how to voice his thoughts than he was when he’d followed Juno in.

Juno had some choice nightwear. Nureyev didn’t know if it was because he was more comfortable wearing them but didn’t want to walk-of-shame back into his room every morning in the lacy nightgowns and cropped tops, or if he liked wearing shirts around Nureyev better.

Was it an assessment of Nureyev's self-control? If it was, he wasn't far off. If Juno wore something like this to sleep in Nureyev's bed every night, Nureyev might take things a lot faster. 

Either way, Juno was always stunning to look at, whatever he was wearing (if he was wearing anything).

“Looking to fix one of my skirts again?” He was damp and glistening in the low light of the room, his hair wrapped in one of his tie-dyed tees. “Because I got a few socks you can patch up, if you want.”

He was talking about those socks he always wore to really stick his cold toes into the back of Nureyev’s legs. 

Nureyev smiled at the thought of them, of Juno, setting the tin aside. “No, I was just looking around for bugs.”

“Won’t find any.” Juno walked on over to his dresser, taking the shirt off his head and settling down in front of a small mirror with a brush. “I had Rita look around for ‘em the first night we spent, and she said there weren’t any in any of the rooms but there _was_ one for the pantry and one in the hangar bay.”

Of course. Why hadn’t Nureyev thought about that?

Juno started sectioning off his hair to put on conditioner and oils. Nureyev watched, hugging one of Juno’s pillows to his chest as he laid on his stomach.

This wasn't their usual routine. Normally, Juno went to his room after his hair had already dried off from the shower and this. And most of those nights, Juno fell asleep at his room. But there was someting about this, maybe it was just Juno himself, that made Nureyev feel like this was alright.

Juno cut off his train of thought by asking, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Kind of the point of this, isn’t it?” Nureyev shot back with a smile in his voice.

Juno muttered something that ended with _ass_ , then spoke up. “Earlier, when I used Dahlia, did I... hit a nerve or something?”

Nureyev shook his head. “Not at all, why do you ask?”

Juno shrugged his shoulders as he brushed through a section with his fingers. “Well, I mean, you kinda just disappeared on me afterwards. I dunno, it made me feel like you, uh, got mad or something?”

And there it was.

Nureyev started thinking of ways to avoid answering before he realized that the exact reason for them to talk every night was so that he wouldn’t avoid answering. 

He very nearly cost them today’s job, in his head. If Cosmas had been any less faithful to his spouses and started outright flirting with Juno, Nureyev might have just done something drastic. And all because of what? His insecurity?

“Nureyev.”

He blinked. “Yes, yes, I was just thinking.”

He took a moment to watch the way Juno’s back muscles rippled with his arms held up. Just… to appreciate the sight of it, with the scars on his arms and his back, with the lace trim nightgown framing his thighs.

He sighed.

Why wouldn’t he be insecure? This impossible and contradictory lady, his soft curls, hard-edge eyes, sharp jaws, soft lips.

“Are you actually thinking or just admiring the view?”

Without hesitation, he said, “Both.”

Juno dropped his arms to his side with a huff. Turning, he propped his head up with an arm on the table, looking at Nureyev. He had a look that was both unimpressed and fond, expressed with the squint of an eye and both brows arched.

Breathtaking, really. 

Nureyev sighed. “I miss you, Juno.”

The words tumbled out unbidden, like all things did around Juno.

Juno sobered at the phrase, eye turning just a touch wistful. He was still beautiful even with the tight set to his jaw. “I’m right here, Nureyev.”

Nureyev pushed up from Juno’s bed and made his way to stand behind Juno, grabbing the brush from willing fingers. “I know. And I know it’s like pulling teeth, trying to talk to me. I’m trying my best, dear.”

“I know.”

He combed through the sections Juno had finished and twisted them. It was something to do while he thought of his next words.

He leaned forward to dip a few fingers into the tub of leave-on conditioner on the table by the mirror. The action let him crowd against Juno’s back, stomach to shoulder. The warmth of him seeped in from the small point of contact.

“I feel like we don’t have the time to figure us out,” Nureyev muttered, as he lathered the conditioner on evenly. “Like on one of these jobs, you’ll be swept off your feet by some stranger you were sent to fool.”

Juno tried to turn to look at him, but Nureyev held him still. “That’s not going to happen, Nureyev.”

“It might, Juno. That’s what happened to _me_ , wasn’t it?”

That shut him up.

“Hey.”

Nureyev twisted the section and moved on to untangle another.

“Nureyev. Let– lemme look at you.”

He had always been so weak-willed to the wants and whims of Juno Steel.

He stopped and pulled back.

Juno turned in his seat.

Nureyev dropped to his knees in front of him. 

There was something fitting with the supplication, the lines of sight. It felt right to look up at this goddess of protectors, that single eye piercing through him. 

They weren’t even half-done with his hair, the rest of it still in a state of undone that brought Juno down from divine to temptingly attainable. The looseness of his nightgown showed with how low it hung across Juno’s chest and Nureyev so achingly wanted to trail kisses on his chest and _bite_.

Juno hunched forward, hand hovering between them. With some deliberation, he touched, rubbed a thumb over the apple of Nureyev's cheek. 

Nureyev’s eyes closed.

Juno’s forehead met his. 

They each took a deep breath.

Nureyev could smell the way his soap softened the strong tones of what Juno naturally smelled like, something so uniquely, indescribably him. The smell of the leave-on conditioner was barely there.

He could stay like this, kneeling in front of Juno Steel. Not even wanting for a kiss, just this warmth, just this touch. He loved it.

The words of it bubbled up in here, waiting to tumble out like all things did around him. But it stayed under his tongue as Nureyev opened his mouth.

“I’m not going to run off with someone else,” Juno said with a soft and broken voice that made his chest hurt. “I have _you_ to come back to, Nureyev. I’ll wait for as long as I can for you to meet me halfway. You won’t have to miss me, I’ll be here the entire time, baby. Don’t worry about that.”

He had to fight to gather his words, and when they came out, it was barely in a whisper. “Okay. Okay.”

He was impossible. He was going to wait for Nureyev, forever if he had to. He was going to stay there until Nureyev came to him.

 _I was jealous,_ he wanted to say. These were the words that had been nothing but an amorphous blob inside his chest until he got here, kneeling on the floor before Juno Steel’s feet. _I was jealous and insecure and scared. And you, Juno Steel, are_ **_beautiful_** _. Anyone could and would whisk you away from me. You could wait forever for me, but I don’t have the time. I never did._

He could confess, _I’ve had to tell you that I love you before because I couldn’t stand the thought of you reciprocating someone else's affection. I never used to be a selfish man but you are an impossible dream that came down in a beam of goddamn starlight and I could_ **_reach_** _for you._

Instead, he said, “I’m getting there, Juno.”

Juno pressed his lips against the center of his forehead. 

The galaxy could burn and Nureyev would know the feel of those lips branded against his soul without even pausing to think.

“I’ll be here.”

* * *

“Rita, could you hand me the–never mind, I’ll do it.”

Juno carefully stepped around Rita’s stool, holding the edge of the counter as he did. He knew enough now, that _not_ holding onto the edge of the counter while moving around it will result in bruised hips. 

He reached past her pile of unopened snacks bags and grabbed his pencil

It was late. They were used to working in the late hours.

They were halfway through the stuff Rita got from her job with Jet and Vespa at that hospital last week. They’ve had at least two cups of Cuban coffee _at least,_ and Juno has had to trail behind Rita to the bathroom like five times already. 

They had a system.

Rita was going to transfer the files that seemed related to their leads to her reading pad and hand it over to Juno. He was mostly there to connect the dots with what they knew from what she uncovered from Blooms’ Keep’s records.

Jet had stumbled into the kitchen/dining room twice for water. Both times, he said nothing about the state of the island counter.

Then, the news came in.

Scout, a household name in multiplanetary pharmaceutical companies, lost a CEO to disease just that morning (it was four in the morning at this point). Rita jumped onto Jupiter’s news streams, scouring for clues on what came next.

There was an irony in there about pharma and disease that Juno could mine a joke for, if the news hadn’t left him so incredibly tired.

Rita heaved a sigh. “Hey, Mistah Steel, can I ask you somethin’?”

Juno scribbled on his notepad. “Is it related to the case?”

“I’m takin’ a break.”

“You took a break five minutes ago,” he shot back without looking up.

Rita ignored him. “I was thinkin’ of this old Earth movie I watched a while back, and I was askin’ everyone on board because I couldn’t wrap my head around it–”

“Which one?”

“Oh, it’s the one we watched after you came back with your eye gone. The first time!”

Juno paused in his note-taking, leaning heavily against the counter. “You mean the one with the undercover–”

“—spies that were faked married to each other, yeah! Aw, you remembered!”

Juno scoffed. He reached up to rub at his eye. “Only because it had a weird name.” 

(It definitely wasn’t because Juno was too busy sniffling into a tub of ice cream imagining what he and Nureyev could’ve had.)

“Yeah, anyway, I was thinkin’ and I asked everyone earlier while you were doin’ your laundry this mornin’. Because the couple in the movie, right, they’re pros, they’re undercover. I was wonderin’: what if in one of the scenes, one of ‘em had to seduce someone else after they figured out that they were spies for rival companies? Would’ve been _worth_ the drama, I gotta tell you, but Mistah Jet didn’t really believe me.”

Juno smiled wryly. “Yeah? What’d the big guy say?”

Rita harrumphed with a measure of fondness in her tone and shimmying shoulders. “He told me that it would’a just confused the plot more. I told ‘im it wasn’t about the plot, it was about the _trust_.”

“Did you ask Buddy what she thought?”

“Yeah! Well, I asked her how she'd react if Miss Vespa had to go out and seduce someone else. Captain A said that it was about trust. She said, _If my Vespa had to seduce someone for a job I gave her, I’d trust that she’ll come back to me_. And Miss Vespa told us to stop talkin’ about it.”

Juno laughed. 

“What would you have done, Mistah Steel?”

He hummed. “I dunno...”

What if Nureyev had been sent out on a job to seduce someone?

Buddy and Rita were right, of course, it _was_ about trust. 

Nureyev liked to take scenic routes, to make it so his target gave him the intel without asking for it. It was smart. It made him the last person to be suspected in case something got stolen, which really just proved his mettle in thieving. If there ever was just one thing Juno admired in Peter Nureyev’s craft, it was _that_.

Since they started, Juno’s been trying. He’s never been confronted with anyone who needed _coaxing_ , not in the way he specialized in. 

Sit him in an interrogation room and rescue him after enough time passed, sure. He’ll get the information out of his interrogator in like, ten minutes flat. 

But sitting down and having tea or partying or whatever with a target wasn’t anything he’d been allowed to try alone before. He didn’t have the first clue how to _make_ people like him and trust him enough to share things with him.

Hell, he couldn’t even do it with Nureyev, most of the time.

Nureyev treated the act with a modicum of professionalism that, when he came back to himself, Juno couldn’t help but admire. How fast he’d changed faces, how easily he slipped between them.

Nureyev seducing a target…

This was an entirely new work environment for Juno.

Nureyev’s been doing it for years, and has admitted that he tried to seduce Juno when they first met. Seduction and honey potting was just… one of those things they could use as an arsenal in this line of work.

So, he viewed it as a job. A work environment Juno was so terribly new in.

Juno wasn’t just a job to Nureyev, not anymore. He wasn’t a challenge or a game. He was a person, someone who wanted to be a good partner.

Juno would be there when Nureyev came back from a job.

He just had to trust that Nureyev wouldn't betray that stability.

“I guess you’re right,” he answered eventually. “In our line of work, it’s kind of given that if we’re going to need to get something, we can’t pull punches. So, if… if someone I trusted that much needed to sleep with a target… We’ll have to talk about it before they do it, but a job’s a job, right? I think I’d just have to know that they won’t, I dunno, break up with me after they do it?”

Rita nodded. “That’s real deep, Mistah Steel, I’m not gonna lie. I was mostly just expecting how you’d react to jealousy or something. But you really took it seriously! Mistah Ransom did too but–”

Juno’s eye widened. “You asked Ransom?”

“Oh. Yeah! He thought about it then just passed it onto someone else before leaving the room. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Juno mumbled, busying himself with the files. “Hey, so did you find Scout’s next of kin?”

Rita perked up at that. “Yeah, actually! A while ago, before I asked my thing. Ian Scout. He’s this producer and record collector on one of Jupiter’s moons. Though it doesn’t say what-all he inherited. Mistah Norman Scout’s email was deleted after his death and the rest of it was archived off somewhere I can't get access to, so I didn’t get to see what else he put on his will.”

Juno blinked. “Looks like we have our next target, then. Good work, Rita.”

Rita beamed at him, then yawned. “Thanks, Mistah Steel.”

He stood, pushing the files into one folder. “Hey, get to bed. We’ll tell Buddy in the morning, alright?”

“Okay.” She hopped down from her seat on the counter and down to her stool. She came up to hug him. “G'night, Mistah Steel.”

Juno squeezed back. “G'night, Rita.”

* * *

Juno had just finished pulling his shirt over his head when it came.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“Door's unlocked.”

The door hissed open and Juno turned in his seat by the table, smiling. “Hey, I was about to head to your room.”

Nureyev was ready for sleep, makeup and jewelry off, hair free from product but shining with pomade. He was in boy shorts, fuzzy socks, and cropped hoodie with an old ominous stain on the edge of it.

Juno, tired from a day of research, couldn’t help but think of how good it would feel to fall asleep with this man in his cramped bed.

Juno opened his arms and, delightfully enough, Nureyev stumbled up into them. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Nureyev said. “Rita asked me the darnedest thing this morning.”

Juno hummed, burying his face into Nureyev’s stomach. They weren’t the affectionate type, but Nureyev had let himself be hugged instead of just making his way to Juno’s bed so he was going to take what he could.

“I heard about that,” he said, eventually pulling back and away. “She asked me too, actually. You alright?”

Nureyev sighed as he made his way to the bed. “It was a lot to think about that early in the morning.”

“You wake up at ungodly hours, Nureyev. That wasn’t even ‘that early’ for you.”

Nureyev rolled his eyes.

Juno stood to sit beside him. “Alright, okay. So you’ve been thinking about it all day. Does it apply to us?”

Nureyev shrugged, leaning back against the headrest. Juno moved to lay his head down on Nureyev’s lap. Almost like a reflex, Nureyev’s hand went to Juno’s hair.

He was taking _all_ he could get from this.

“It could,” Nureyev said. He was doing that thing where he wasn’t really looking Juno in the eye while he spoke. “I wouldn’t put it past the Captain to give you a job that would require it. She’s seen what you’ve done with your last three or four jobs.”

“Well, if it helps, I’m not going to sleep with any targets,” Juno said. “I don’t think I can.”

“What do you mean?”

Juno could feel his face heat. He licked at his lips, resolutely staring at the ceiling. “After I left you, it was… y'know, I was in a hard place. I tried a bunch of times with other people and it… didn’t work.”

Nureyev kept his silence, the feel of it expectant.

Juno took a deep breath and blurted out, “I couldn’t get it up.”

And the silence that came after was nothing short of excruciating.

Juno had always been a blabbermouth, almost always trying to fill the silence on a good day. He liked to think he got it from either Benten or Mick or Rita, but really it was just him. Unless he wasn’t the one making the silences stretch on purpose, he had to fill it, to divert the attention away from discomfort.

“You couldn’t sleep with anyone else?”

Juno shook his head, biting at his lower lip.

Why couldn’t Nureyev just move the topic forward? He was good at that, right? Why the sudden interest? Why focus on this?

Nureyev’s hand slid from his hair down to his cheek, pushing, guiding him to look. And Juno looked.

Nureyev had the brightest eyes he’d ever seen and they held a lot more emotion than he let on. It was hard to look away from them, even harder when he was trying to lie his way through something he thought he could get away with.

They always said the eyes were a window into the soul. If that were true, then Peter Nureyev believed in Juno Steel before Juno could believe in himself. And here they were, boring a hole into his, looking on with wonder and disbelief and… _something_.

Juno didn’t want to name it, didn’t want to hold onto hope. 

He was willing to wait for Nureyev to meet him halfway, but he had to give himself some distance, to give Nureyev the chance to do it himself. He didn’t want to read affection and love into Nureyev’s actions unless Nureyev told him himself. 

But the inkling remained in his mind. And Juno had to move away from it before he said something to embarrass them both.

“I told Rita I wouldn’t mind if you had to seduce someone else. I trust you, Nureyev. You know how to do your job and you’re good at it. I told you I’d be here for you so I am, and I’m trusting you. I’m trusting you to come back to me every time you do something like that.”

Nureyev’s thumb traced his cheek, gentle, cautious. “I don’t… I don’t deserve that.”

“This isn’t about what you think you do and don’t deserve, Nureyev. It’s what I’m giving you and whether you’re willing to accept.”

This might have been a bad conversation to have while he was effectively pinned down by gentle hands and those bright, bright eyes.

Juno had self-control. He had a lot of it. And he had to have it if he wanted them to take things slow.

But the wonder, awe, and _love_ that flooded Nureyev’s eyes just now, the guilt and sadness that came with it.

Juno wanted to kiss him.

He laid there, on his back while Nureyev bent over him, wanting to kiss Peter Nureyev.

But he didn’t.

He had self-control. They had to talk things through.

“Would you let me do whatever it takes, like you do? Would you trust me with that?”

“I trust you with my life, Juno,” Nureyev croaked out, near to tears. Juno could feel his eyes fill up.

“That’s not what I’m asking. Would you trust me to come back to you, Nureyev? Because I will. I absolutely will. At the end of the day, it will always be me and you, on either of our beds, in either of our rooms, talking things out just like this.”

 _And if you’re willing, you’d let me kiss you, reassure you,_ Juno wanted to say. _You’d let me make you feel it_.

Nureyev sniffled, then brought his other hand up to wipe at his face. He gave a watery, “Yes,” then nodded for good measure. “Yes, Juno. I would love that.”

Juno sat up and removed Nureyev’s hand from his face.

Those bright eyes stared back at him, brighter with tears and awe and wonder and love. 

There was only so much self-control one lady had. 

He pulled Nureyev into a hug, let Nureyev bury his face into the crook of Juno’s neck. Tears trickled down to his shoulder, pooled there as Nureyev shook through his stifled sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Nureyev whispered.

Juno ran a hand over Nureyev’s back, the way Rita always did. “What for?”

“I got jealous and I wouldn’t say why.”

Jealous? Of who? Of what? “Wouldn’t or couldn’t?”

“Does it matter?”

“Everything you say does.”

“Gawain told you you needed someone bold and serious, someone willing to tell you that they loved you. And I can’t yet. You have to be so patient and I’m sorry. I’m jealous of you, jealous of all the people who could capture your interest in a future I imagined.”

“What?”

Nureyev pulled away, sniffling. He wiped furiously at his eyes until they were dry. “You’re beautiful, Juno Steel. You are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I could wax poetic about you for hours and never stop. And I’m scared that someone better than me could–”

There was only so much self-control he had.

He raised a hand up to cup Nureyev’s jaw, traced those silken lips with eye and thumb. “Weren’t you listening to me just now? I wouldn’t leave even if I could. You’re beautiful too, Peter Nureyev.”

He looked up at those bright eyes again. “I will choose you again and again if you let me.”

Nureyev grabbed his hand and pulled him in.

Silken lips sliding against his, the smell of Nureyev’s cologne washing over his senses. Juno’s eye closed as he kissed back with every ounce of yearning in his body. He let his hands stay on his lap, let Nureyev set the speed.

They were breathing heavy when Nureyev finally pulled away, forehead to forehead like the other night.

“Juno…”

And the way Nureyev said his name, reverent and wondrous. Like he was the goddess of marriage and protectors Nureyev said he was.

“If you kiss me like that again,” Juno breathed out, brows furrowed as he tried and failed to wrestle his heart into a steady beat. “I don’t think I can…”

**X**

Nureyev dove back in for another kiss, then another, and another.

He’d been dreaming of these lips on his since the night Juno came aboard the Carte Blanche. 

At first, it was a source of frustration. Recently, it was more just sexual frustration.

But finally getting to kiss him like this, to hear those gasps as he let his hands roam free, soaked in all the warmth he could get.

It was a touch short of magical. Touching Juno Steel was always better than he could imagine.

He pushed Juno down onto his side. Kept kissing him like that, with slow, languid movements. The push and pull of it was breathtaking.

 _I will choose you again and again if you let me_.

Peter Nureyev had never been a selfish man until he met Juno Steel. Now, in this room, and in his arms, Nureyev could have been nothing but someone who would do anything for him just because he wanted to.

He remembered how things went the last time. How Juno wanted it rough, how he couldn’t meet Nureyev’s eyes and kept insisting they went faster. How red he went when Nureyev told him they had the time. How he cried when he came, how he pushed his way down the bed to give Nureyev the hardest orgasm he’d had in years.

He remembered how it ended with Juno walking out.

But this was the new Juno Steel who wanted things differently, who would wait for him until he was ready.

Nureyev slotted a thigh between Juno’s legs and felt the hardness of him wanting. 

Juno stifled a groan.

Nureyev remembered how loud he could be.

“Do you want this?” Nureyev asked. 

Juno gasped as he moved his hips, nodding with a wide eye. He gasped out, “Yes, yes, please. Anything you want to give me.”

Nureyev hummed. “Broad strokes there, Juno.”

Juno giggled, _actually giggled_. Nureyev felt his heart skip a beat. “You better hurry up and decide before I fall asleep, babe.”

It skipped another beat.

He dove back in for another kiss, this one hungrier than before.

Juno moaned into it, as softly as he could.

Nureyev nudged him onto his back, straddling him.

Juno’s hands settled on his waist, stroking his thumbs over jutting hip bones as he smiled up at Nureyev. “Someone came prepared. Were you planning this?”

“Please, Juno. I’m prepared for anything,” Nureyev mumbled.

“Did you bring lube too?”

Nureyev paused at that, hand landing on the center of Juno’s chest. “Do you want that, tonight?”

Juno shook his head, “I told you, I’ll take what you’re willing to give me.”

“I’ll give you anything you want.”

Juno snorted. “Okay, we’re not getting anywhere with this. Did you bring lube or not?”

Nureyev shook his head, pouting. 

Juno squeezed at his hip, smiling up at him. “Alright, there we go. We can work around that, can’t we?”

Nureyev hummed, then slid his other hand up Juno’s shirt, revelling in the vast expanse of warm skin. “I suppose we could…”

Juno gasped when Nureyev reached his nipple. “Y-yeah. Glad we could reach an agreement there.”

He was being too coherent for Nureyev’s liking.

He pushed up Juno’s shirt to expose his chest, diving down to lap at the other nipple. He felt it in his teeth when Juno’s chest rumbled with a moan. He could feel Juno arch his back to rub at Nureyev’s thigh.

Nureyev ground his hips down as he sat back up, pushing the shirt up just past Juno’s head. “Think you can leave your arms there?”

He didn’t let Juno answer with his words, just kept grinding down until Juno started getting loud enough that it warranted the need for Nureyev to lean back down to bite at the edge of his lip.

“Nureyev,” Juno panted. “Touch me.”

“That’s the plan.”

He heard Juno laugh, watched carefully as it transformed from a laugh into a moan. He traced his teeth over Juno’s collarbone and down his chest. He nosed at Juno’s belly button, and the happy little trail of hair that led to where Juno’s panties were poking out of his shorts.

“Yes. Please,” Juno whispered. “Touch me.”

He was beautiful.

Nureyev pulled away to strip him out of those shorts, keeping the panties on. He had a fantasy he wanted fulfilled. A few, actually, but this one came at the forefront of his mind with their lack of tools for all the others.

He knelt by Juno’s legs. He watched with great satisfaction as Juno ducked down to watch him, spreading his legs as an invitation. 

Nureyev licked at his lips, locked gazes with Juno as he smoothed a hand over the crease of Juno’s thigh, traced his finger tips up and around where Juno wanted him. His other hand clamped down the meat of Juno’s hip, keeping him pinned to the mattress.

Juno was taking deep breaths, looking redder in the face than Nureyev had seen in a long time. He was biting down at his lower lip.

He looked so very beautiful.

Nureyev took his finger and traced it up Juno’s shaft, watched the way Juno’s eyelid fluttered. “Nureyev,” he gasped.

Nureyev hummed in response, then took the same finger and pulled at the edge of Juno’s panties, the edge by his inner thigh. “How stretchable can you say this pair is?”

He continued tracing around Juno’s cock almost casually.

“B-been with me a long, ah. Time. Guess you could say it’s... due a replacement.”

“I’ll buy you all the underwear you need, dear,” Nureyev said, amused.

Juno squirmed and let out a squeak when Nureyev started messing with the head. “Y-yeah, alright.”

Nureyev ducked down, quick as anything, and dropped a kiss at the leaking head of Juno’s cock through the fabric.

Juno _whimpered_.

Nureyev slid his other hand down to the inside of his thigh and pulled it aside.

“Nureyev, I’m not– they’ll rip!” It was a near whine and Nureyev would laugh if Juno hadn’t sounded so embarrassed.

Nureyev dropped a quick kiss on one celluloid-lined inner thigh. “I’ll replace it, dearest. I’ve been thinking of doing this for so long.”

Juno huffed but it was drowned out by the punched out sound of him as Nureyev finally touched him.

Of all the things Nureyev missed about Juno Steel, he never really expected _taste_ to be so far high up the list.

It wasn’t that Juno tasted any differently, it was just that he never expected the sex to be anything phenomenal.

But it had been, and the sounds and sensations of Juno arching up off the bed and crying his name out as softly as he could filled something in Nureyev’s chest, a folder he hadn’t wanted to name until Juno told him he’d choose him over and over again.

He _loved_ this.

With his free hand, he grabbed the base of it, pumping as he suckled. He opened his eyes periodically to see the progression of faces Juno made as he did. The punched-out-gasping look, the intense furrow to his brow, the way he squeezed his eye shut whenever Nureyev came suckled at his head before going back down. 

His chest rose and fell with each gasp and whine he let out. His arms kept pulling up, like he kept forgetting that they were trapped in his shirt. He arched his back and squirmed. 

“ _Nureyev_ , ah, that’s so good.”

He was beautiful.

Nureyev loved him.

Nureyev pulled off of him, wiping at his mouth. Juno whined and squeezing was all Nureyev could do without going back down on him. “Do you want to finish together, Juno?”

Juno blinked a few times as he tried to wind back down. He nodded, a haphazard bobbing of the head that seemed almost mindless. He swallowed. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds good, babe. How do you want me?”

Nureyev crawled up the length of him, dropping a kiss on his chest as he sat up. “Every way I can have you. But right now? I want you on me.”

Juno’s brows furrowed. “But we don’t have any lube. Do you wanna just–”

Because he could, he kissed Juno’s jaw, then up to his left ear where he nibbled at the lobe of it. “Let me make myself perfectly clear, Juno. I want you to sit on my face so we can go down on each other.”

“Huh,” was all Juno had to say to that.

Nureyev pushed himself away, smiling. “How does that sound?”

Juno licked at his bruised lips, blinking. “Honestly? Really fucking hot. You’re really fucking hot, Nureyev.”

Nureyev laughed at that. He dropped another kiss on Juno’s jaw before stepping off the bed to strip his clothes off. “I think you’re really hot too.”

**X**

Juno had gotten so into eating Nureyev out that he didn’t even notice himself building up to a climax.

It bowled him over, if he were being honest (and he was). It was so intense he could barely even feel Nureyev milking him for every drop, just kept panting into the crease of Nureyev’s thigh.

“Shit,” was the first word he could say when Nureyev stepped off of him with shaky knees and a sharp smile. “ _Shit_ , that was good.”

“You’re one to talk. You made me come twice before I could do you in just the once.”

Nureyev settled down next to him, moved them around so Juno could lay on his chest.

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” Juno mumbled, dropping a kiss on Nureyev’s chest. “S’not a competition, baby. Just wanted to make you feel good.”

“You did, dear. You win this round.”

Juno snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

He hummed. He waited for the fear that always dropped in his stomach whenever anyone said the word ‘love’ around him and smiled when he felt nothing. “Yeah, I do.”

Nureyev pushed his hair away from his face. “Should we have done that?” he asked. There was no doubt or concern on his face. Just genuine curiosity and a lack of regret.

Juno hummed again, because he was serious about being tired. “Do you regret it?”

“After that? I’m afraid not.”

“I don’t. You wanted it, right?”

“Wholeheartedly.” Nureyev kissed the crown of his head. “I’ve wanted it since the first time we started talking. Maybe even before.”

“Do you feel like we’re…” he yawned. “Like we’re goin’ too fast? Did we rush things?”

Nureyev made a sound of disagreement.

Juno wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. “Worth it, then.”

Silence. This one, Juno didn’t try to cover up. It felt right, like it should be there. Like the silence after a sandstorm.

“You stayin’ all night?” he asked.

“I think I will.”

“Okay. G’night, babe.”

“Good night, dear.”

* * *

They don’t get time alone again, after the new job is announced.

Juno threw himself into research and practice. Rita and Nureyev had to force him to bed on most nights.

Juno was apologetic but asked for no talk sessions, nights before the mission. “I don’t wanna fall asleep if you want to tell me something important. I’m willing to talk to you earlier in the day, if you want, Nureyev, I swear. Just…”

“It’s fine,” he soothed. “It’s fine by me. Just do your best, dear.”

“Thank you.”

So they spent their time making out in Nureyev’s bed instead. Sometimes, more, if Juno wasn’t too tired.

The night Juno was set to leave, Buddy said, “I put your dress on your bed, darling. And _please_ clean in your room.”

That evening, he came to Nureyev’s room to get ready.

Juno looked stunningly beautiful in the black dress. Nureyev gave him a few kisses under the collar of it before doing up his wig and his face.

He watched the way Juno’s usual quirks disappeared under brush and makeup: the bags under his eyes and the set of little marks by the edge of his cheek (easily missed, if one didn’t know to look for it). Even some of his gray hairs had to go when Nureyev had to wrangle him into the wig.

These were the quirks that one usually missed about this beautiful lady of his, things no one got close enough to see. Nureyev cherished them every time he spotted them.

The hallmarks of him were still there, of course. The crooked bridge of his nose, the scar that came across it, the one by his jaw, and the glass eye that Vespa had fitted him to wear months ago but never did until now.

Nureyev loved every single one of these quirks.

He wished to tell Juno that, but it felt premature. 

And before Juno left his room he said, “Nureyev… I’ll come back to you, alright?”

Nureyev got up from his dresser and leaned down (not as far down as usual, with Juno’s heels) and kissed him three times, each chaste, soft, pouring everything he felt into it. He made sure to give Juno the non-smudge kind of lipstick.

Three kisses.

 _I love you_.

“And I’ll be here when you come back, Juno.”

Then, Juno smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: [Nottodaylogic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandaloreArtist/pseuds/Nottodaylogic) and [Sphye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphye) guessed it! so, here it is:
> 
> -The Lonitzers _are_ based on Sir Damien, Amaryllis, and Lord Arum from The Second Citadel.  
> -Lonitzer = from Adam Lonicer/Lonitzer, the person Carl Linnaeus named after Lonicera, the genus of honeysuckles.  
> -Cosmas = the saintly twin of Saint Damian (the original form of the name Damien)  
> -Belladonna = a species of the genus Amaryllis  
> -Calla = the name for the species of Zantedeschia elliottiana. Zantedeschia aethiopica, on the other hand, are usually called arum lilies.  
> -And yes, the movie Rita is talking abt is _Mr. and Mrs. Smith_ , the 2005 action comedy film starring Angelina Jolie and Br*d P*tt.
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](https://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/stubborn_jerk) where i shout about everything i like. 
> 
> again, if you liked this, consider reading [bridges to burn and places to run](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086194) where there's art and experimental paragraph-ing and more jupeter but less sex (can't draw sex in quarantine, everyone sees).
> 
> anyway, thank you for reading this far, gosh. any comments will be appreciated.


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